


Always Yours

by EverydayClumsy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad dreams - sort of, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Will Figures It Out, Will has an epiphany, Will has friends, Will is a surprisingly good liar, no encephalitis, the food is people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:50:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverydayClumsy/pseuds/EverydayClumsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A nightmare had woken him and left him with clarity he hadn’t felt since he started working in the field again. The bloodied puzzle pieces placed themselves in the right places and he saw the whole picture. A spider’s web made of blood threads, hundreds of connections in the blink of an eye. He knew now."</p><p>Follow Wills journey as it might have panned out if his moral standards were a little more askew and he wasn't as broken as he is. (And if I had a say)<br/>___<br/>(I'm going to try update this fairly regular now [i.e. not once a few months], I'm back with new energy and can't actually wait to write this. And this is set somewhere in Season 1, before the shit hit the fan.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What dreams may bring.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,  
> this is the first time I post a fic that I haven't written fully. I'm not overly confident in this because I don't know if I can finish it and I will probably change a lot of things as I write.  
> The rating and tags will change as I continue.  
> I don't know, I just hope you folks like it.  
> Comments and kudos are highly appreciated.  
> (A few days until season 2, YAY!)
> 
> edit: I changed some stuff, not much though.
> 
> edit 2: I changed stuff again.

He was lying in his bed, the sweat drenched t-shirt clung to his body like a second skin. His limbs were numb and his body cooled rapidly down under the wet material, making him shiver, goose bumps covering his arms. The unforgiving blue numbers of his clock stared at him, burned themselves into his mind.

It was three in the morning darkness surrounded him only broken by the pale moonlight crawling through his window. A nightmare had woken him and left him with clarity he hadn’t felt since he started working in the field again. The bloodied puzzle pieces placed themselves in the right places and he saw the whole picture. A spider’s web made of blood threads, hundreds of connections in the blink of an eye. He knew now.

He wasn’t scared or disgusted. He should have been.

The blue stared at him as if to mock him and he wondered why, why it felt so right to know the truth. He understood now everything and it felt like a heavy weight was lifted of his shoulders. In a way it was, he saw the man behind the crimes. He saw the grotesque beauty behind every body left for him to re-imagine, warped up like presents only for him to open and dissect. He felt calm, peaceful even as the knowledge seeped into every morsel of his being. He was so immersed in the Ripper case that his body and mind were bending and breaking, but now there was nothing to find out, no mystery only the truth and he wasn’t scared anymore. The monster not a shadow anymore but a solid body of flesh and bones.

He tossed restless in his bed, thinking over what he should do. What his brain told him and what he wanted to do, until the piercing sound of the alarm broke the silence of his dim lit room and hauled him out of his thoughts. The soft scrapes of his dogs’ paws against the wooden floor were the only other sounds in the room, slowly filling with morning light. He dragged himself to the bathroom and completed his morning routine in trance, his thoughts wandering back to the depths of his new knowledge.

Doctor Hannibal Lecter, his psychiatrist and – maybe – friend, was a serial killer, he was the Chesapeake Ripper.

His moral-self told him to call Jack immediately and tell him to arrest Dr. Lecter – no Hannibal – and start an investigation, fuelled by the knowledge of how many people had died through his hand and that the ones they found weren’t the only ones. A monster sitting in a chair of bones, devouring bits and pieces of everyone’s souls.

But he didn’t call. In the forefront of his mind was only the idea that he couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t lose the only person who thought him worth saving and befriended him, shared meals with him. He stopped in the middle of his bedroom, his dogs brushing against his legs; the meals, artistic and delicious in every way, were probably not what Hannibal said they were but he couldn’t find the resolve to care. He shrugged and dressed himself. Worn jeans and an old New Orleans police academy t-shirt.

Through the kitchen windows he could see the murky sky. It seemed like it would rain today.

While making coffee he thought about what he should do today; it was Saturday, no classes and if he would be lucky no case. If he was really lucky he would be able to spend the whole day alone thinking over what he should do.

The coffee tasted bitter on his tongue.

Calling Jack was already out of the question, as fast as the thought had formed in his mind it also had died. He couldn't allow Hannibal's name to be dragged through the mud, but he also couldn't turn a blind eye to his doings, or could he? There were blood and bones beneath his feet; he walked over streets filled with crimson and his razor sharp smiles held no warmth. And Will had a feeling that he was only one of his little pawns in a game against Gods. A gruesome truth held behind a mask of elegance and wealth.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a light knock on his door, he glanced briefly on his watch; it was half past eight. He didn’t expect any company at least not this early. Only as he reached the door he remembered that there was only one person who would show up this early on his doorstep and it wasn’t the one who he should be seeing now, when his mind tried to figure out what to do.

He sighed deeply and opened the door; and there he was, long black coat, gray three piece, garnet oxford shirt, a slightly lighter tie and pocket square, dark shoes. Immaculate as always. A slight smile graced his sharp features. He held a brown paper bag in his hand.

“Good morning, William.”

The world stood still for a moment and there in that moment he knew the answers to his asked and unasked questions and his mind quieted down. Beneath all the cloth and elegance, behind the composed manners and planed emotions was a man, a mortal man, just like him and he couldn’t and wouldn’t let him be taken away from him. Even if this man was pretending to be monster, even if he killed enough to be a monster, even if he himself was only a tool for him, he still was the one he cared for and whom he loved.

He loved him, this thought fought its way to the forefront of his mind, it was so loud and obvious now. He once or twice entertained the idea of more than a friendship but it never occurred to him how deep his feelings for his psychiatrist were.

This revelation made it so easy, his decision was clear now. He smiled slightly and stepped aside letting him in.

“Good morning, Hannibal.”


	2. Breakfast with the Devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, 
> 
> I updated, yay for me!  
> That's why this was actually a bad idea. I need like two weeks to update because I don't write time linear and then I have another idea and start that and then there are tons of other unfinished stories for which I write a sentence or two and then there is life that get's in between (This year already really fucking sucks). Ugh, I'm a bad at this but I wanted to try it, so it's my own fault and you have to live with it, I'm really sorry. I'll just look how it works out for the next chapters, might take it down, write it fully and then post it.
> 
> Like I said I don't write this time linear so I have and end-ish thing and the main idea of the whole thing, an outside skeleton if you will. So yeah...  
> Changed some things in the first chapter.
> 
> edit: I changed some stuff :3

Hannibal stood in Will’s kitchen, chopping vegetables. His coat hung on the coat rack and his jacket was neatly laid over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Will’s apron was folded and made to a waist apron now bound around Hannibal’s middle. His sleeves were rolled up. The muscles under his tanned skin shifted as he moved his hands. His long digits gracefully held the sharp knife. He moved like in a dance through his kitchen, knowing where everything was only muscle memory guiding him. Will already lost the count on how many times the Doctor was in his home. He wondered briefly how much was a play and how much was the truth.

He would have offered to help but he already knew that he wouldn’t be allowed to, so he just sat down in one of the chairs and observed. His arms crossed lying on the table and his chin resting on them.

The fast movements of his hands, the slight muscle movement under his shirt, his eyes fixated on the task, the dark glint in his eyes as he cut the meat. Every motion precise and efficient.

He was a true predator, he seemed to radiate power. Will wondered how he never saw it before. The dark glint in his eyes hid something wicked and dangerous.

The sun broke through the clouded sky and flowed in through the window making him glow, his features sharp with light and shadow. A death angle bringing peace to his mind.

“Seems like you brought the sun with you.” Will said watching Hannibal’s hands. His tanned skin was dusted with pale hair. His eyes darted up for a second, Hannibal’s features where still sharp but his eyes softened for a moment. He watched the older man work for a few more minutes.

He felt a bump against his legs and looked down. Winston pressed his gold brown head against his leg; he smiled down at him and scratched him behind his ear. “If you don’t mind I’ll take out the dogs for a moment.”

He stood up and grabbed his jacket “I’ll be back in ten.” Hannibal nodded slightly with a small smile.

Will felt the overwhelming urge to warp his arms around the other man and press a kiss on his neck, to feel the warmth that he radiates, to brush over his sharp cheekbones with his fingertips, to trace all his features, to memorize him, he wanted his scent to cling to his clothes so he could feel him the whole day. He wanted to be more than a tool or pawn. He could feel his ears turn red so he turned around and called his dogs together.

The sun was warm but the north wind was still cold and bit into his face and hands. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and burrowed as much as he could into his jacket. The dogs roamed through the field, never running to far away, always keeping an eye on their owner. He picked up a piece of wood and threw it, he watched as the dogs ran after it.

His thoughts drifted back to Hannibal. It wasn’t too difficult to pretend that he didn’t know a thing; there were enough monsters to replace the mystery of the Chesapeake Ripper and his asperger-manners didn’t disappear with his new found insight.

There wasn’t the weight there anymore but there was another one now, what should he do? What _could_ he do?

Hannibal was bound to make a mistake that would cost him his freedom or worse, his life. He could cover a lot sending everyone into a wrong direction but that would be too obvious.

Another thought crossed his mind. A thought that didn’t cross his mind before, he could tell him that he knows the truth.

But what good would it do? He would probably be killed when the words would leave his lips. He wouldn’t blame him; he would probably do the same in his position.

One of his dogs brought back the branch and he threw it again.

No, keeping it to himself was the right decision. He walked through the field watching as his dogs playfully tugged at the piece of wood. The long dry grass brushed against his legs.

How much time did he have with Hannibal? He was a careful man, he hadn’t left any evidence until now, but he would make a mistake at some point or someone would figure it out, just like he did and he was sure that that person wouldn’t keep quiet about it.

He glanced at his watch and made his way back, his pack running in front of him.

Entering through the door he could smell the warmth of mild spices and he could sense Hannibal’s presence in his home. He should be terrified out of his mind having a serial killer in his house and not be comforted by it.

He dried the dogs’ paws and made his way into the kitchen, where he found Hannibal still busy with the food. He looked up and smiled “Perfect timing, five minutes and everything will be ready.” Will smiled back.

He rubbed his hands together; they were slightly red from the biting wind. Hannibal looked at him and came over and pressed a warm mug of coffee into his hands brushing with his hands over Will’s. Will mumbled a thanks turning around to hide his blushing face, he sat down at the table and warmed his hands with the coffee, its sweetness mixing with the fluttering feeling in his chest.

He finished his coffee and placed the mug into the sink and observed how Hannibal now arranged their plates.

Will smiled “It looks wonderful, what are we having?”

Hannibal picked up their plates and set them onto the table; Will followed him and placed glasses of water next to them, they sat down.

“Mushroom salad with ginger chicken.” And Will could see the plain lie, there was something in Hannibal’s expression, maybe a slight twitch of his lips or an unnecessary blink of his eyes but he knew that he was lying and the meat they were having wasn’t chicken.

Hannibal watched him as he picked up his cutlery and cut a piece of meat and placed it in his mouth. His mind was reeling; he was willingly sealing the deal with the devil.

The meat almost melted on his tongue “It’s really good.” He said and meant it.

He needed a way to protect this man.


	3. And when we dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God my Sweets! It's an update!  
> Yay for me, you can love me again, I updated both stories today ('This Empty Heart Of Mine' is the other one).
> 
> Also I changed some stuff in the previous chapters, you may want to reread them :3.
> 
> Well anyway have fun reading and check out the other stuff I posted :3.

Hannibal left his house an hour after they finished breakfast, telling him that he had something to take care of. It left him with the question, why he came in the first place. He couldn’t imagine the refined Doctor really enjoying his company. He was scrubby and broken.

But it wasn’t that he minded the others company, now even less than before, it was only that he didn’t understand him. He knew the truth but that didn’t help him to understand the other better. It gave him insight where he had none before but there was so much he didn’t know about the Doctor and couldn’t begin to figure out. His emotions were always behind a veil of politeness, always held back. He showed just what he wanted.

But knowing the truth came with a feeling of lightness and happiness. Will smiled to himself.

He occupied himself with the unfinished fishing lures, thinking about his Doctor. His mind wandering over the endless times he was in his home. How out of place he should have looked but didn’t. How his fragrance lingered in the places he had been. How his prominent form stood in his kitchen illuminated by the morning sun, creating a halo for the fallen angel or how the setting sun brought out the gold in his hair and the red in his eyes.

He briefly entertained the idea that Hannibal had feelings that extended those for a patient or a distant friend; that he actually enjoyed the time he spent with him. That he was with him really as a good friend and not a king overlooking his pawn. A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

He gave up making the lures; he couldn’t concentrate on the delicate work, his fingers clumsy and his thoughts wandering on dangerous paths.

He lay down on the sofa, one of the smaller dogs flopping down on his stomach. He smiled and petted the soft fur. The mild midday sun warming him. A shallow sleep overtook him.

_Garret Jacob Hobbs stood before him, his chest pierced with bullets, blood gushed out slowly of every hole. Thick crimson oozing out of the wounds he was to blame for. It dripped down and pooled under his feet, it marred further his already filthy clothing. The crimson changed to black as it touched the ground, the smell of tar pitch filled his nose. He could feel Hobbs hands on him; where they touched him he felt a burning, a fever crawled over him from every contact point. He wanted to take a step back but couldn’t move, his legs were sinking into the ground, he could feel himself drowning in the tar pitch, the smell getting stronger._

_Something gripped him from behind and hauled him back. The ground was solid again under his feet and Hobbs vanished into the darkness. He turned around and was greeted by two glowing coals in the darkness. The click of hooves echoed as the shining feather pelt of the raven stag came into the light. It stepped closer to him and he could feel its breath against his skin. Every exhale was like ice on his skin and cooled his body where Hobbs had touched him. Its bone white antlers were covered in blood and ashes, its eyes bored into his very soul._

_But he wasn’t scarred of the animal, he wanted to stretch out his hand and lay it on its head. Touch the feathers that looked like the darkness itself. A faint ringing sounded in the far, he looked confused at the animal that retreated back and vanished in the dark just like Hobbs did._

The ringing got louder and he woke up with a gasp. There was a moment of confusion until he understood that the ringing was his phone. 

He sighed and got up, it seemed as this day wouldn’t be for him to relax.

He got up and got his phone frowning down at it; it displayed a number he hadn’t seen before. He sighed again and answered it.

“Will Graham speaking.” He opened the back door and let his dogs out.

A rough voice greeted him on the other end of the line “Will? This is Neil, Neil Parade.”

Will’s brows creased in confusion “Neil Parade? Parade like in Deputy Inspector Parade?”

“Yeah, that one.” There was a rough laugh.

Deputy Inspector Parade was his supervisor back when he was a police officer. He frowned.

“To what do I owe the honor of this call?” He asked skeptically. The last time he had talked to the DI he had told him that any further employment won’t be possible because of his injury and the psychological evaluation that resulted from it, which he didn’t pass.

A deep sigh echoed through the line “We need your help.”

“My help?” He asked confusion in his voice.

“Yes, there is this guy, he does disgusting things to his victims and we don’t have anything on him.” There was a faint sound of a pen clicking.

He watched his dogs roam through the field, chasing and tripping over each other. The wind was still cold even if the midday sun warmed the air.

“You should contact the FBI and not me. They should take over if you can’t solve the case.” He said calling his dogs back inside.

“We tried but they won’t take us seriously and I know how you …, you can _see_ the killer, Will. We need your help.” There was anger, resignation and hesitation in the other man’s voice, he could imagine him, sitting in his office brushing a hand through his graying hair and clicking with his pen like he used to do.

Will dragged a hand over his face; he couldn’t really just go to New Orleans to help an old colleague.

“See it as a personal favor for me.” The rough voice told him softly.

He groaned inwardly, people always had to use emotional blackmail.

“Please?” There was softness and a plea in the word and he knew he couldn’t say no.

He sighed loudly and covered his eyes with his hand.

“Give me the details.”


	4. Liquid courage and epiphanies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm back from my hiatus. I can really only apologize for not updating.  
> Thank you if you are still sticking to this and reading.
> 
> For news and stuff visit me on everydayclumsy.tumblr.com

He tossed the phone onto his sofa. DI Parade had told him about the killer and he had to admit that it sounded like something the FBI had to take a look at and if they didn’t there was only a small chance for the police to catch the killer. He sighed and flopped face down onto the sofa, he had already agreed to come as fast as he could and help out as a consultant.

It was going to be fun explaining to Jack that he couldn’t work for the next week or weeks, that he had ‘personal things’ to take care of.

He let the weekend pass by trying to figure out how to avoid explaining why exactly he needed the free time. He would have to ask Alana to take over his classes and if he told her the truth she would nag at him and he didn’t need that.

The two days passed without him finding a real solution. It was more distracting than finding out that Hannibal was the Ripper and that should have bothered him but didn’t.

Hannibal was still Hannibal. Someone whom he trusted even if he shouldn’t have; someone who was probably manipulating him with everything he did; someone whom he loved. His inability to cope with social situation wouldn’t just disappear because he knew more things about this Doctor than others.

He climbed out of his bed on Monday morning, shirt sweat drenched and clinging to his body. He had hoped in vain that his nightmares would lessen after he found out about his Doctor. Some things were different but all the same bloody and terrifying.

First thing he did as he arrived, at Quantico teaching facilities, was mix his coffee with some whiskey. Noting over some liquid courage.

He still hadn’t a plan on what to say to Alana or what to say to the director if he asked why Will needed another free day, and this time it wasn’t Jack; he sighed and went to the faculty offices to fill out forms for a week long leave.

The offices were bustling with life even in the early hours. Students searching for Professors, Professors fighting with each other and the printers. The secretaries trying to bring everything into order.

He sighed again, he was doing that a lot as of lately, there was no way around it. He had already promised it and as broken as he himself was, he wasn’t going to break promises.

He observed the room and located the secretary with the least workload and approached him.

He cleared his throat awkwardly “Excuse me?”

His head snapped up and he glared at Will “What can I do for you?” the man asked icily, standing up. All broad shoulders and immensely intimidating height, towering over Will.

He winced inwardly, this could only go badly.

He took a breath and a thought hit him like a train.

One of his best friends, at least on his part, was a _cannibalistic serial killer_ , he spent Saturday morning _eating human flesh_ , he _killed a man himself_ and he felt intimidated by a overgrown and overworked man. What was he doing?

He exhaled and smiled sweetly at the secretary “Good morning, I was wondering, where I can find the forms for a leave or do I have to apply for it somewhere.”

The secretary still glared at him but sat down “Using vacation days or unpaid leave?”

“I’m not sure if I still have vacation days.” He frowned; they all were gone with Jack, always dragging him out of the classroom.

The man looked at him skeptically “Name?”

“Will Graham.” Something like recognition light up his face.

He tapped on the keyboard, a small frown appearing “No vacation days left, written out by Jack Crawford in your name.”

Will nodded, “Then unpaid leave it is.” he sighed, damn Jack and his damn cases. And if he knew Neil, he would bring out the guilt card and wouldn’t pay him much; well at least they paid for the hotel and the flight.

The man looked apologetically at him and asked much softer “How long? And I’ll need the reason.”

“For the next seven days as of tomorrow, and…” He couldn’t just say he’s doing a favor for this old boss, that wouldn’t get his request trough, so he masked his face with sadness and lied freely “Family matters, there was a…a death in the family.”

“I’m sorry.” The man said, with a little frown “I hate to ask but, do you have a replacement for yourself?”

“Well…, I haven’t asked but I’m sure Doctor Bloom will take over my lessons.” He frowned “I hope at least.” He added in a small voice. It was surprisingly easy to act, just plucking from the various personalities he had seen in his life, a little victim sadness here, a mourning relative there, it was really easy.

He looked at him sympathetically “Should I organize it?” he asked kindly.

“That would be amazing.” He said with a sincere smile.

“Okay, so that’s done, you should get an answer to your work mail by the end of the day.” He stood up; smiling back at him “I’m sure it’ll go through and I’ll know it before you so I can write Doctor Bloom in for your lessons.” He reassured him with a wink.

“Thank you, …?” He still smiled at him

“Benny.” The other man said and offered him a hand.

“Well, thank you Benny.” He shook his outstretched hand, looking into his eyes. “I hope you have a great day.” He winked at the large man with a little smile and walked lighter out of the office as he came in.

If he saw what become of his life in comparison to his anxieties and oddities, they moved to the background and become almost nonexistent. He smiled to himself walking to his classroom, his eyes wandering from one person to another, reading them like books, saving emotions and lies, filling his cracks with new things.


	5. Lying makes the life easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta-read like always. Have fun :).

The day slowly dragged on, his students where a lot less lively than he was used to, even he himself felt more tired than usual and it was only Monday. He hoped that his request would go through, as much as he hated the idea of slipping into another serial killer’s mind, in the moment it sounded a lot more appealing than teaching students, from which half was asleep and would probably fail his class. He hated teaching. He sighed and kept going.

By the end of his last lecture he stumbled into his office and plopped into his chair, he really wanted to go home. Glancing over his desk his eyes caught on a stack of papers he hadn’t seen before. He looked skeptically at them; if they were from Jack then he would have to find an excuse as fast as he could. He took the documents and saw a note attached to them in a hasty but neat handwriting. He smiled to himself reading through the lines.

 

_“Mr. Graham_

_Your request for an unpaid leave just went through; you’ll find the official document’s attached. I took the liberty to print them for you, so you have them all ready, if necessary._

_Doctor Bloom will be taking over your classes for the time being. Feel free to extend the leave if necessary, the documents for that are also attached, I’ll make sure that it’ll go through._

_I wasn’t able to do it this morning and I’m sorry for it, so let me express my condolence for your loss this way._

_\- Sincerely, Benny Jackson”_

 

He could see where the writer stopped blacked something out but decided to write it again and a small laugh escaped him.

 

 _“Ps. Feel free to contact me personally, if you have questions.”_ The sentence was followed by a neatly written phone number.

 

He stood in his office, disappointed in not finding Will here personally, quickly scribbling down the note, pausing, confidently adding the last part, then thinking about it again, blacking it out and after a minute adding it again. Lastly adding his number slowly and carefully so that there could be no switch ups. Staring at the paper and finally, with a small nod, deciding that it was okay.

Will took out his phone and added the number, still smiling; maybe he will have some questions in the future.

He looked at his watch and packed up his things. His leave was approved and if he could avoid Jack for the rest of the day and tomorrow, everything would go perfectly. He decided during the day, that if he didn’t tell Jack, Jack couldn’t get mad and in NOLA he could just ignore his calls. The explaining he could do later or maybe Jack wouldn’t want to hear it.

Quiet happy with himself he made his way out of his office only to run into Alana.

“Will, what’s this all about? I’ve just received an email that I have to take over your classes for the next week.” She was mad, her foot kept tapping on the floor and she crossed her arms over her chest.

Emotions looked beautiful on her, he wondered for a brief moment how death would look on her.  Just as beautiful he imagined, her skin pale, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes, her eyes wouldn’t look as beautiful. The spark of life that she held in her would be no more. He decided he liked her living and breathing more.

Maybe it should have been better if he had asked her himself to be his replacement, but he couldn’t unmake it now, only try to salvage it. A little grief, a little pain, a little fear and panic and the lie should work just as good as it had this morning.

“I’m so sorry, I just hadn’t had the time to talk to you personally. I was just on my way to you.”

She looked at him expectant, arms still crossed with a deep frown.

He let a little more pain bleed into his expression, gauging her reaction.

“My…” He looked away, letting his face screw up in pain. He took a deep breath and continued with his lie, letting his words tumble out “One of my oldest friends was shot during a raid yesterday.”

He looked briefly up from where he had averted his eyes.

Alana had lost her defensive stance and her frown tuned into one of sympathy.

He wondered why he hadn’t done this earlier, it worked perfectly.

Alana looked at him with sad eyes, placing a hand on his arm “Oh Will, I’m so sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it?” She rubbed absentmindedly over his arm.

He shook his head, already feeling bad about the lie. That’s why he had never tried it, it made him feel like an awful friend, lying to one of the few people who actually liked him.

“I assume you are going back?” She asked trying to catch his eyes.

He nodded slightly looking at the ground “Yes, tomorrow at noon.”

“If you need to talk, just call me, okay?” She hugged him tightly.

“Will do.” He said quietly, hugging her back.

He felt awful about lying to her, but he knew she wouldn’t let him go, and would be a lot madder if she knew that he was going back to work.

When he got home a slight panic attack overwhelmed him, too many things had happened at once. He tried to breathe slowly in an out and tried not to collapse on the floor, his pack swarmed him and nudged him. He hugged the nearest dog to his chest trying to calm himself.

After his episode he was drained and went to sleep, dreaming about running after a stag hidden in the shadows and he himself hiding from a silver fox. He woke up the next morning with a gasp, after seeing how the fox bit into the stag’s throat bathing him in blood, and he couldn’t do anything but stare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget Benny Jackson *dun dun dun*
> 
>  
> 
> -And I'm really sorry about the short chapters-


End file.
